


Ranting: It's a Thing

by gunslingaaahhh



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-09
Updated: 2011-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunslingaaahhh/pseuds/gunslingaaahhh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ranting for Danny is like fucking breathing, and somewhere, somehow, it became something else for Steve; whoops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ranting: It's a Thing

"You're kidding me with this, right? Like this is some kind of ridiculous, sadistic, crazy person _joke_ and we aren't going to the emergency room right away because you wanted to, I don't know, pick up a few things first?"

 

Steve rolls his eyes, stalking further into the dark depths of his house. It was late, he was tired and more than likely a wee bit concussed, and Danny just wouldn't _shut up_ about going to the hospital. The thing was, Steve had had _way_ more traumatic head injuries than this, he knew for a fact. Although, what that said about him probably wasn't good.

"And another thing--" and Danny changes topics, again, launching into a tirade about God-only-knew-what. Sighing heavily and bracing an arm against the banister of the stairs, Steve turned to glare at Danny over his shoulder.

"Can you just go home already? I didn't realize you needed to follow me _into the house_."

Danny pauses, arms stopped in mid-air, mouth hanging open. He blinked a few times before his hands came to rest on his hips, head cocked to the side.

"Excuse me? You experienced _blunt force trauma_ to the head! It's a miracle you managed to drive back here; _Jesus_ , I'm an idiot, I should've just taken the fucking keys but _nooo_ , Mr Macho-man Navy SEAL had to prove his dick is bigger and drive with a concussion. Forgive me for breathing and being concerned, you shmuck."

Steve seems to have stopped listening, and Danny pinches at the bridge of his nose, counting back in his head and trying to calm down. At this point in their partnership, Steve knew when it was ok to tune out and when it wasn't; after a point Danny became familiar background noise and hey, he might've been offended at first but now he was used to it. The part that irritated him, though, that really made him grind his teeth, was the fact that Steve tuned him out no matter what the rant, even if it was Danny expounding at length about Steve's safety and doing stupid things.

"Steven, I don't know what I'm going to do with you, I really don't. You wanna give yourself brain damage, that's fine, I'm not participating in it though." That said, Danny turned on his heel and stomped towards the front door, silently fuming. Steve didn't care about himself, didn't care enough to even _pretend_ to listen when Danny made it obvious that he cared, and that hurt, a little.

"Danny, wait, c'mon, I'm sorry! I have a headache and I can't focus on this right now," came Steve's hushed call, like he couldn't stand the volume of his own voice.

"And why do you think you have a headache, hmm? Maybe because you stupidly stood there and let some maniac with a two-by-four take a swing _at your head_ \--" and he was off again, just like that. Steve automatically stopped listening, but nodded and agreed in all the right places, taking the time to watch Danny speak. It was weird, because usually he was just listening and not paying attention to what Danny was doing physically when he was on a tangent.

Here, now, watching his partner turn the air around him into sushi and watching his face express every emotion known to man, Steve felt an odd stirring. Sure, he could appreciate guys, had done his fair share of staring back in the day. Danny wasn't unattractive, not by a long shot... but, the way he was so physically in to what he was saying, how his _entire body_ was ranting and raving right along with his voice... Steve could feel the blood rushing south, felt his muscles tense at the realization.

Danny was pacing now, unable to keep his frenetic energy confined to just arm waving. Pacing was good, it meant he wasn't looking directly at the taller of the two, who was trying desperately to pay attention and hide his quickly growing erection at the same time. It had to be a result of the head trauma, _had_ to be, no _way_ was he turned on by Danny reading him the riot act. His body was telling a different story, though, and Steve bit his tongue to resist the urge to groan. He'd be done for, if this was a real thing, because ranting for Danny was like fucking _breathing_ , he did it constantly. And since they were together constantly, there'd be no way to escape.

Oh, he was righteously fucked.

The sudden silence was very loud in the dark hall, and Steve jerked his eyes up, saw the curious scowl on Danny's face and froze. The other man was studying him, I-am-a-Detective hat firmly in place. Blue eyes roamed him up and down, slowly, and Steve felt like he was burning alive under that scrutiny.

"Steven, have you been listening to me?"

"N-no, sorry, must've zoned out there for a minute..."

"I think you did a bit more than zoning, my misbegotten friend," Danny said thoughtfully, coming closer and flicking on a side table lamp. Steve cringed away from the light, squinting while his eyes adjusted. Danny was staring intently, taking in his body posture and how his hands were firmly gripping the tops of his thighs through his pants.

"Sleeping with my eyes open?" Steve offered, trying to keep his tone light while backing up towards the stairs.

"You're turned on right now," Danny says, completely ignoring Steve's words. "Why I don't know, I'm not doing anything out of the ordinary, although with you it could be anything, it could be--" and he pauses, eyes widening with the realization. "Oh my God."

"Danny, shut up, drop it, go home."

"No, no way, this is too good, this is _amazing_ ," the blonde started, humor creeping into his voice, bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement. "You're turned on by my rambling, my angry flailing and yelling and general speech. I have to say, I am very flattered."

Steve looks at him pleadingly, hands balled into fists in front of his crotch and the unfortunate arousal contained therein. This was a new face, one Danny gleefully decided to refer to as the Extra Super I'm-a-dirty-freak Guilty face. Clapping his hands joyfully, he wracked his brain for something that had happened earlier, something that had _really_ aggravated the fuck out of him, and snapped his fingers when he remembered.

"Did you _see_ that guy earlier, the one wearing _socks_ under his sandals? Can you even, what is that, who even does that, what the fuck? Can you say tourist, wow, even _I_ don't do that and I'm about as _touristy_ looking as they come. And dude, that shirt! How fucking ugly can you--" and Steve is moaning and fleeing for the stairs.

Danny darts after him, grabbing at his ankles and tripping him, causing Steve to end up face first on the stairs. He whips around, pained expression on his face, cock hardening even more at the wicked smile on Danny's face as he continues to build up steam.

"-- and the woman he was with, who the _hell_ still wears fanny packs?! I'll have you know, that while the idea was a good one, anyone who actually put that thought into action needs to be evaluated, seriously, those things are ridiculous. Just carry a purse or something, or a backpack, or I dunno, _put stuff in your pockets_ , for Christ sakes! That and who told her a bikini top counted as a shirt? Dear Lord, how'd she even get _in_ to that restaurant, that's what I'd like to know, goddamn nearly spooned my eyes out like that guy, what was his name, Oedipus? _That_ poor slob, did you ever read that shit in school, about that guy and his unhealthy love for his mom? No wonder Freud was a freak--"

"Danny!" Steve squeaks, shimmying up the stairs, using his elbows and his knees but making no headway because Danny is _clinging_ to his legs, yelling up the stairs. Steve can feel the head of his cock bumping the landing of each stair he ascends, and oh God the friction is torture, he needs to get away, needs to get to his bedroom so he can slam the door shut and take care of this whatever-it-is going on with him all of a sudden, if only Danny would _let him go._

"-- Shakespeare, man, I never understood any of that bullshit, did you? Why not just translate that crap into _plain, modern day English_ is what I wanna know! What sadist sat down at his desk and decided, 'hey, let's torture poor unsuspecting high school students with Olde English! Great idea!' and who the fuck _agreed with him_ _?_ That guy needs to be dragged out back and _beaten_ , with a _rubber fucking hose_ , and then _sprayed_ with said hose, just to add insult to injury. Oh, and _that_ reminds me--"

"Fucking-- Danny, _get off of me!_ " Steve screams, his body twisting around so he can yell right in the other man's face. Danny stops, pauses for a split second which is all Steve needs. He's scuttling up the stairs, hurling himself around the corner and down the hall towards his bedroom. Danny uncoils like a spring, behind him in an instant and wrapping his arms around the taller man's waist.

There is breathless giggling coming now, in between strings of sentences, words spun together in a such a way that they don't even _mean_ anything, he's just talking with emphasis. He goes dead-weight, dragging Steve down to the floor of the hall with him. For a little guy, he's _heavy_ and Steve curses him, curses everything about him, his Jersey-ness, his musical tastes, his ties, his _ridiculous hair_ \--

"And that time, that time with the _thing_ and t _hose guys!_ And pffffftttt, shit exploded and we almost died, _how does that always happen_ ," Danny shrieks, barely holding it together, he's laughing so hard. "How does it always happen that with you shit explodes and we almost die?! Steve, we always _almost die!_ And then you're all 'no big deal I'm a cool guy' and I'm all 'what no fuck _you_ I love this tie--"

Steve can't take it anymore, Danny's hands are like claws, pulling at his shirt and his pants and his face, all the while laughing breathlessly in his ear.

"I can't, I _can't_ ," he manages before cumming, squirting hot and thick into the crotch of his pants. He can feel his body going rigid before wringing itself out, muscles spasming before he slumps to the floor, breathing hard. There is silence, merciful silence, and Danny breathing just as hard at his back. Those hands are still fisted in his shirt, Steve can feel fingertips pressed against his skin.

"Wow." Danny's voice is raw; it will be a miracle if he can speak the next day, but he decides it was all worth it, definitely.

Steve doesn't say anything, just lays there, mortified and covered in his own excretions.

"Well, this was fun, but I'm tired, so I'm gonna go; have a good weekend!" Danny exclaims suddenly, cheerful. He untangles himself from Steve before turning the corner and going down the stairs. Steve can see him through the spires of the banister, hates him a little even, until Danny pauses. He's on the stair that perfectly aligns him with Steve's line-of-sight, and his blue eyes are twinkling merrily.

"Ball is in your court now, babe; figure it out." And with that, he's down the stairs and out the door. Steve can hear the car unlocking and the engine turning over and Danny backing out of the driveway.

 _Figure it out_ , he thinks, confused, before it slams into him. His eyes widen and he gasps before descending into a fit of laughter, rolling onto his back and clutching at his stomach.

   



End file.
